They were so transparent when they approached me about art that it was laughable, but I didn’t care. They wanted to build a collection quietly and quickly. I spent the better part of eighteen months visiting new, up-and-coming artists. It was the most fun I’d had since the early days of collecting. I’d done very well for them, picking up eight sculptures by Matthew Barney and a half-dozen paintings by Elizabeth Peyton before anyone knew who the artists were.
Notwithstanding the help I provided, the brothers remained distant and ungrateful. After the budget they had set aside was spent, and despite the increase in value, I was persona non grata. I went into a funk. Marilyn thought I was insulted, but what gave me the blues was being unable to see the pieces I curated. It was the ultimate nightmare scenario. The brothers treated the collection like an investment and stored it in a Boston warehouse. When I told Marilyn how I felt, she laughed at me, and when I tried to explain to her how much it meant to me, she made a demeaning comment that they were just decorative items.
The pool house was freezing. I raised the thermostat and lowered myself onto the couch, reminding myself it was all about the wealth for the Boggs. I slid into sleep, wondering if the family would use its weight to jail me for Marilyn’s death.
Chapter 28
Luca
The station was buzzing with activity. My office was next door to the area where roll call was held, and Sergeant Gesso’s baritone voice was tough to block out. Needing to think, I closed the door to my office and ran through my messages. I had to treat as real what Barnet told us about Marilyn doing away with her husband. The family was powerful and had unlimited financial resources. That combo, juiced by a strong dose of arrogant intelligence, had doomed countless others who believed they could mastermind a crime and get away with it.
Did Gideon discover a plot to get rid of him and respond by killing his wife? Could the case be that twisted? It was an irrational response, but most murders were. How would he have learned about it? Marilyn could have let it slip, or maybe she taunted him with the threat? The family was tight-lipped and guarded but, by all accounts, Marilyn’s affairs were well outside the lines of the family’s behavior. She didn’t seem to use any discretion. Plenty of people, including Gideon, knew about her escapades. It was possible she threatened him and he reacted.
If he had come to the police with an oral threat, would we have treated it as real? No way. Unless he had hardcore proof, it would have been dismissed as domestic chatter, especially given the players involved.
Vargas opened the door. “It’s safe, roll call is over.”
“Maybe Morgan will tell him to tone it down.”
“I think he’s gotten louder, trying to impress him.”
“The Barnet revelation that Marilyn wanted to get rid of her husband makes gaining access to the trust even more important.”
“How so? Her brother already acknowledged she’d be penalized for divorcing.”
“Yeah, but one, we don’t know by how much, and two, we don’t know what we don’t know. Who knows what else is in there? Even if there wasn’t a plan to kill Gideon, we could learn a lot from the documents. Remember, greed is the most powerful motivator for murder. You ask me, this one’s all about the money.”
“What’s that, two Luca parables today?”
“You don’t agree?”
“You’re probably right, but I’m not giving up on the jilted lover angle.”
“I think we can make a case for a subpoena of Gideon’s phone and computer records. It’s supported by either the money or the being jilted motives.”
***
Vargas came back from the second floor and gave a thumbs-down.
“Tell me you’re kidding, Mary Ann.”
She shook her head.
“This is crazy. How the hell can they deny the request?”
“You forget who we’re talking about, Frank?”
“You think Gerey got to the DA?”
“No, they don’t need to. The name alone intimidates. They’re gonna be super careful. The last thing they need is bad publicity going after a grieving husband.”
“It’s for their benefit, for crying out loud.”
“If it’s any consolation, he said—”
I jumped out of my chair. “We got it backward. We need to get inside the trust first.”
“How we going to do that? Didn’t her brother Wesley say no? If we can’t get Gideon’s communications, how we going get them to subpoena a private document?”
“Gerey’s going to give us access to it.”
“What? Are you sure?”
I picked up the phone and made an appointment to see the Boggs family attorney.
***
White, Gerey and Blackburn occupied a two-story, white stucco building just north of Golden Gate. Tucked away in the left-hand corner of a small parking lot that served two other buildings, you needed a microscope to see their sign. Two late-model Mercedes framed the single door into the offices, which felt more like a home than a law firm.
Gerey was seated in a far corner, signing documents at a round table when we entered. He penned a couple more before rising to greet us, shooing away a secretary who had started toward us. As we shook hands, he said, “Let’s step into my office.”
Gerey’s office was done in a dark-paneled wood I thought was walnut. Heavy drapes shut out most of the light. Gerey slid behind an oversized desk that anchored the room, and Vargas and I took seats in green leather-wing chairs.
“How can I help you, Detectives?”
I said, “We’re pursuing a couple of avenues and believe the trust may hold clues to who murdered Mrs. Boggs.”
A smirk formed on Gerey’s lips. “Clues? Please don’t tell me the sheriff’s department believes that a trust, drawn up decades ago, contains information on the murderer?”
“Let me be more specific. We already know from Wesley Boggs, among others, that the trust contained clauses that would penalize Marilyn Boggs for getting a divorce.”
Cobra-like, Gerey looked straight at me but said nothing.
I said, “We’d like to get a clearer picture of what financial incentives are in the trust.”
“The trust is a private document and is unrelated to the tragic murder of one of its beneficiaries. The family will never permit it to be made public.”
Vargas said, “We understand and respect the family’s privacy.”
“Well, that’s it then. I’m glad we agree on that.”
I said, “Hold on. Let me be direct, and I apologize in advance if I cross any lines.”
Gerey clasped the arms of his chair and said, “If you wish to, go ahead.”
“Rather than viewing our access as an invasion of privacy, and it would be limited to just my partner and me with you in the room, think of it as a possible windfall.”
“Windfall? Detective Luca, you promised to be direct.”
“If we find something in the trust or otherwise that points responsibility for the murder to Gideon Brighthouse, I’m sure any inheritance he would be entitled to would be stripped away, leaving the money to the rest of the family.”
Gerey silently steepled his hands.
Vargas said, “Either way, it would help clarify Gideon Brighthouse as either a suspect or clear him. I’m sure the family would like to quiet the rumors and suspicions that are dragging the them through the mud.”
I said, “We have no interest in seeing the entire document, just the parts that involve Marilyn, Gideon, and their marriage.”
Gerey rolled his tongue over his teeth. “The sooner we clarify if Mr. Brighthouse has a role other than as a grieving husband, the better. The family needs closure, and I’ll agree to allow you access. However, access will be strictly limited to prenuptial references, divorce repercussions, and rights in the event of spousal death.”
I said, “That’s fine. It’s all we’re interested in seeing.”
“I will no
t allow any copying. However, you may take notes, but they’ll be prohibited from publication. Is that understood?”
Man, would I like to ram a subpoena up this guy’s ass.
Vargas said, “That’s fine. We appreciate the cooperation, Mr. Gerey.”
Gerey nodded and picked up the phone. “Clara, please phone Mrs. Whitestone. Tell her something urgent has come up and reschedule her appointment for an opening next week.”
He hung up and rose. “I suggest you come back in an hour. I’ll have a nondisclosure agreement drafted for your signature, and it’ll give me time to scrutinize the documents to identify the relevant sections.”
***
Gerey showed us into a conference room with an oval-shaped, dark walnut table. Sitting in the middle was a four-inch thick white binder emblazoned with Boggs Family in black. My thoughts went from what was in it to how much Gerey charged to put it together.
Three neon colored Post-it notes hung just past the cover. Vargas and I sat in front of the binder and Gerey slid it between us, opening it to a page with a pink Post-it. It was about a quarter of the way into the sheath of documents.
“Section thirteen B. The Boggs prenuptial agreement. You should be aware that in section eleven C, I believe, entrance into this prenuptial is a prerequisite for participation in the trust.”
Vargas asked, “Everybody has the same prenuptial?”
“For those who wish to marry, yes. Any family member who wishes to benefit from the trust must execute this exact agreement. No deviations are permitted.”
There was a plastic separator just a few pages down. I flipped to it and said, “The prenup section is only three pages long?”
“Indeed. Short and to the point. As will become clear to you, Martin Boggs frowned on divorce. You’ll find the section on separations and divorce concise as well.”
Vargas took her moleskin out and jotted down the essentials. At the time of a court-approved divorce, a one-time payment of one hundred thousand dollars would be made, along with an annual stipend of forty thousand dollars to spouses of beneficiaries. Assets acquired during the marriage would remain under the control and ownership of the Boggs family trust.
It sounded tough, but I could see the old man’s point in keeping the gold diggers away. I wondered what kind of money Gideon had when they got married. He was in politics, so if he was like most politicians, he would have found a way to accumulate a hefty sum.
I flipped to the middle of the binder where a lime green Post-it marked Section 27. It was all of five pages. Vargas started jotting notes, but I had to read the legalese twice to get the picture; if a beneficiary got divorced, their benefits would be reduced by twenty-five percent. That was a hell of a price to pay to get out of a marriage. I was already trying to figure what that meant in dollars.
The last section we got a peek at was marked by a blue sticky and was almost the last part of the trust. It dealt with the deaths of beneficiaries. There were parts of the section that were paper-clipped together, and when I asked, Gerey told us they dealt with the unmarried, children, and infants. Boy, these guys had everything covered.
It took a few minutes of looking, but the number was worth the hunt. A spouse of a beneficiary who died was entitled to twenty million dollars.
I asked, “Am I reading this correctly? Someone like Gideon would get twenty million?”
“Yes.”
“Boy, with these numbers it’s a wonder the trust doesn’t run out of money.”
Gerey said, “Life insurance policies on each beneficiary more than cover the spousal entitlement.”
That was interesting. The trust made money on the death of Marilyn Boggs. I needed to know how much life insurance there was and how much money was sitting in the trust to see if it amounted to a motivator for the current and future beneficiaries, which meant her brothers and their offspring. If they made even ten million from the life insurance payout but the trust was a billion, it was a speck of sand.
“What are the total assets of the trust?”
“That is private and outside of the scope of our agreement.”
“Was the trust struggling to keep supporting its beneficiaries?”
Gerey stood up. “I believe we’ve been more than cooperative, Detective Luca. I’ll have to conclude this meeting.”
It was an abrupt ending, and I wondered if we’d hit a nerve.
Chapter 29
Luca
Capital Pawn was housed in a stand-alone white building that had one of those roofs with a lot of angles. For some reason, that roof style always reminded me of Indonesia, even though I’d never been there. Capital Pawn had a bunch of places, but this one was in Lehigh Acres, on Homestead Road.
It was across the street from the Lee County Sheriff’s office, and that was why it wasn’t offered stolen goods too often.
It was a big shop, a mini-department store. The right-hand side was divided into sections for electronics, musical instruments, and tools. To the left were appliances, sporting goods, and firearms, where a customer was shouldering a rifle. There were about thirty rifles and at least as many pistols hanging on the wall. Though I’d been a Floridian for a couple of years, I couldn’t get used to all the places firearms were offered for sale.
Dead center, signaling where Capital made its money, was a series of glass cabinets rivaling Macy’s jewelry department. Two men were behind the counter, one with a suit and tie. I introduced myself and the suit took over, quickly escorting me to his office.
“You know as soon as we received the alert from Collier we made sure the staff was tuned into what was going on.”
“We appreciate the cooperation.”
“Capital prides itself on being a good citizen.”
“You said you had video?”
He picked up a disk that was sitting in the center of his desk and waved it. “Every one of our stores is outfitted to document sellers and the merchandise they have. It eliminates a lot of headaches when and if they want to buy back what they brought in.”
“I’d like to see that footage before I seize it.”
He popped the disk in and fast-forwarded to a time stamp of 6:50 p.m. The quality of the video was much better than I expected. A tall man, who looked Hispanic, walked up to the counter and spoke with a woman salesperson.
I said, “Freeze that. Who is the lady?”
“Sally Kerchow.”
“Is she here today?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, she’s off today.”
“I’d like her contact details. She may have to testify. Let it roll.”
The man in the video pulled a small pouch from his front pocket and laid it on the counter. He used his left hand. Sally opened the pouch and took out a cocktail ring. She held the ring between her thumb and forefinger and examined it. She said something to the man and pulled out a loupe, put it to her eye and brought the ring up to it. After inspecting the ring, she put it back in the pouch. They had a brief discussion. The man pocketed the pouch and departed.
“What did she say to him?”
“Sally knows her stuff. She used to work in the jewelry department at Saks. She recognized the ring right away. It wasn’t your normal cocktail ring. The stones were out-sized, and the setting was definitely custom. She told him they had too much inventory at the time and to come back next month.”
“Did she or anyone recognize who he was? Was he here before?”
“Though we have a lot of repeat customers, no one knew him.”
“You showed this to everyone who works here?”
“Of course.”
“If we can’t ID this guy, I might be asking you to have your other stores take a look at this video.”
***
It took our video guys less than half an hour to produce five clear photos of the man looking to pawn what was confirmed as Marilyn’s stolen ring. I held the photos like a hand of cards. No one down in robbery could place the fa
ce, which puzzled me. No way this was a first dance for him. I get the isolation part if you were committing a robbery for the first time, but on an island? And even though the Boggs had zero security on Keewaydin, unless you knew that, you’d have to assume a high-end home like theirs would have the best.
So, what was it? Was it a murder by hire? Paid for in jewelry? Or an inside job of some kind? Either way, we had to move carefully. We couldn’t risk letting anyone know we had a line on the thief and possible murderer.
As soon as Vargas got back, I’d send her out to Keewaydin since she had developed a bit of a rapport with the housekeeper. With any luck, the maid would identify the man who tried to fence the cocktail ring. If she couldn’t, we’d have to broaden the search by publishing pictures, sacrificing an element of surprise.
Chapter 30
Luca
Raul Sanchez was thirty-seven years old and lived a couple of miles from the casino in Immokalee. He’d come to the States from Mexico about six years ago and had a legitimate green card. Sanchez, whose driver’s license said he was six feet, didn’t have a record in the States and had worked for the Boggs for just under two years. According to Shell, the housekeeper, he was recommended by the landscaping contractor when the pool was renovated.
Standing outside interrogation room three, I found myself wishing we had more intelligence on Sanchez. It’d been two days since we asked the Mexican Federal Police for anything on him, but they still hadn’t responded. All we had was him trying to fence a cocktail ring. Maybe I should have waited or asked the State Department to make inquiries.
It would be nice to have Vargas help interview Sanchez. I sent her a text, but she didn’t reply. She was probably still stuck in court.
The Serenity Murder (A Luca Mystery Book 3) Page 11
